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Sixteen
She felt like a live flame. Pure and essential, like everything superfluous had gone up in smoke. She barely recognized the woman moving beneath Drew, making those helpless gasping sounds. Enthralled by him, and yet more marvelously free than she’d ever felt.
She loved his heat, his lithe, solid body on top of her. His bare chest pressed to her breasts. Then he slid farther down, kissing her throat, then her collarbone.
When he got to her breasts, she floated up to a new level of shining hyperawareness. She clutched his head, fingers slipping through his short hair, thighs squeezing together, just trying to breathe. She wanted to wrap her legs around him, but her thighs were clamped between his, leaving her writhing, gasping, struggling instinctively toward release as her excitement crested to terrifying heights—and crashed down on her.
The climax pulsed through her body. Deep throbs of pleasure wiped her out.
When she opened her eyes, Drew was poised over her, his eyes hot and fascinated.
“I’d call that a good beginning,” he said. “I love watching you come.”
She wanted to laugh, but she was so limp, her chest barely lifted against his weight. But he still felt it, rolling off her and pulling her tight against him, so they were on their sides facing each other.
She plucked at his shirt. “Get that off,” she said. “I want the full effect.”
Drew sat up, shrugging off the tux jacket, wrenching off the shirt. He tossed it away, prying off shoes and socks while he was at it.
Jenna sat up, too, with some effort, as relaxed as she felt, and sat on the bed, struggling with the ridiculously tiny buckles on the ankle straps of her shoes. It was almost impossible, with fingers that were still shaking.
Drew sank down to his knees on the floor in front of her. His big, warm hands pushed hers away. “Let me.”
He undid the buckles swiftly, tossing the shoes behind him, and looked into her eyes as he slid his big, warm hands up the outside of her legs, all the way up to the bands of stretchy lace that held up her thigh-high stockings, and then onto the warm, bare skin above them. He began exploring, with his usual hypnotically slow, magical caresses.
“The dress has got to go,” he said. “But leave the stockings on.”
She stood up, grabbing his shoulder to steady herself, and almost couldn’t get a good grip, it was so thick with muscle. “I just got all that fancy beading repaired,” she murmured. “Don’t want to tear out the seams.”
Drew tugged the crumpled pale green fabric gently down over her hips, until it fell to the floor. He made a low, grinding sound deep in his throat as he swayed forward, pressing his face to her belly.
His breath was so hot, so tender. His lips trailed over her skin, and left a glowing trail of hyper-sensitized erogenous zone every place he touched.
She slid her fingers into his hair, caressing his ears, his cheekbone, his jaw. Savoring the texture of his faint rasp of beard shadow, squeezing the massive breadth of his powerful shoulders.
Drew hooked his thumbs into the pale lace of her panties and tugged them down. She shook them off her ankle, and sucked in a startled breath as he leaned to kiss her, his mouth moving skillfully over her sensitive flesh while his hands cupped her bottom. She vibrated like a plucked string.
“So good.” Drew kissed his way around the swatch of hair adorning her mound.
Jenna wanted to respond somehow, but she was beyond words. She felt so vulnerable, so naked. Incredibly female. Tormented by longing as she wound her fingers into his hair, tugging wordlessly. Demanding more, more, more.
He responded eagerly, pressing his mouth to her, caressing her tender inner folds. He was bold and generous and tireless. So incredibly good at it. He went at her with ruthless skill until she was shaking wildly, head thrown back. Keening low in her throat, completely focused on the sensual swirl of his tongue, the delicate flick, the slow, suckling pull—and she came apart, as he unleashed another wave of shuddering pleasure.
Afterward, she found herself lying down with no clear memory of how she got there, but Drew was leaning over her, pulling the billowy, puffy comforter over her.
“Good?” he asked.
She licked her lips. “I never felt anything so fabulous in my life,” she whispered.
“Excellent.” She couldn’t read his face in the dimness, but he sounded pleased.
She grabbed his belt. “The pants need to come off. I don’t want to be naked alone.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” He shucked his pants promptly. “I’ll keep you company.”
He worked his briefs down, and his erection sprang free. Jenna sat up with a murmur of approval. He was stiff, flushed, ready. She closed her hand around him, and Drew covered her hand with his own, moving it up and down his thick shaft. So hot and hard and sexy. Exciting her beyond belief. She stroked him, exploring him, teasing him, squeezing him. She loved making him shudder and gasp and moan.
Finally he stopped her hands, and stretched out next to her, sliding under the covers and into her arms.
